The Wrong Way
by WhyAye
Summary: When children begin to go missing, Lewis and Hathaway suspect these are more than random disappearances. But then people start dying, and Lewis is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
1. Chapter 1

The office of DI Robert Lewis and DS James Hathaway was unusually quiet. The two men were studying the screens of their respective computers, pointedly ignoring each other. The air was heavy with the stony silence.

At last, Hathaway spoke.

"All I'm saying is either you forget to water them completely and they die or you water them far too often and they run over. And then there's water on the shelf and on the floor and everywhere else, leaves falling off into everything, dirt on the procedures manuals—can't we just get fake plants that don't cause all these problems?"

Lewis glared at him, extremely cross. "I _like_ my plants, and besides, some of them were gifts. Just because you can't keep anything alive for two minutes . . ."

"No, _Sir_, it's the mess and bother. There's no sunlight in here, in case you hadn't noticed. Real plants don't stand a chance. You're constantly chucking out the dead ones and bringing in new ones." Hathaway suddenly shot him a fiendish grin. "I think it shows you're afraid of commitment."

Lewis sat up straighter, seriously indignant. But before he could speak, the telephone rang.

"Yeah, Lewis." He continued to glare at Hathaway. But as he listened, his mien softened, saddened, and finally fell into an emotionless mask. "Okay."

Hathaway's demeanor changed, too, recognizing that once again human tragedy was to dominate their lives for a while, and their verbal sparring would be put aside.

Lewis put down the phone. "Missing child. From what the neighbors told her, the mother thinks the child got in a car and was taken away. We have a partial registration but probably not enough to pinpoint. Or else, some of the numbers are wrong."

Hathaway frowned at this assignment. Nonetheless, they were soon on their way to the flat where the mother was staying.

Jenny Taylor was the divorced, mid-forties mother of eight-year-old Christie Taylor, the missing girl. She told them a neighbor reported seeing Christie get into a late-model, white sedan with a registration that ended in "GBX." The neighbor had not thought anything of it until Jenny came around two hours later, asking if anyone had seen Christie. Not only was that not much to go on, but according to DVLA, there were no late-model, white sedans with registrations ending in "GBX." Hathaway noticed that Lewis dominated the interaction with Jenny, sending his sergeant to interview neighbors and organize the house-to-house.

Jenny brought a photograph of Christie down from a shelf. The girl had her mother's wavy blonde hair. Jenny calmly described her daughter and what had happened that day, starting with breakfast and ending at the point she realized Christie had been gone far too long. But Lewis could tell she was merely doing a good job of keeping the fear out of her voice, and when her words caught in her throat, he put his hand on her arm.

"It's okay to cry if you're afraid, Jenny." His words released a flood of tears, and she buried her face in his chest. He put an arm around her until she was able to regain control, and she stood back, embarrassed.

"I'm so sorry, Inspector, really. I just . . . just . . ."

He handed her his handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes and nose. "She wouldn't have gone with a stranger, Inspector. And there's no one in Oxford she knows." She fought back more tears. "There's no one in Oxford _I_ know, either. God, I feel so alone!"

He looked her directly in the eyes. "Jenny. Call us if you need anything, okay?" He gave her his card.

She thought a moment. "Your accent—you're not from here, either, are you?"

Lewis smiled warmly. "I've lived in Oxford a long time but I s'pose I still can't say I'm from here. Aye, you're right. Newcastle, born and bred."

"Oh, the North. I thought as much. Thank you, Inspector, you're really very kind."

When they reconnoitered back at the office, Hathaway could not help noticing that, whenever he was not focused on something concrete, Lewis bore a bit of a secret smile.

"Nice woman, that Jenny Taylor," Hathaway proposed when Lewis was absently gazing off into space.

"Oh, aye." Lewis remained unfocused.

Hathaway smiled. Might have hit the mark on that one. Over the years, he had learned the most effective technique for weaseling information out of Lewis when he was less than forthcoming. _Quit while you're ahead_. He tried a new tack.

"So why is she in Oxford? Didn't she say they were from Shrewsbury?"

"You could read her statement, Sergeant. She just got a job in London and she's staying at her sister's flat, using it as a place to stay while she works at finding a flat in the City. The sister's off in Europe and they both benefit from her staying there in the meantime." He tried to assess where Hathaway was going with this.

"I've read the statement, Sir, I was wondering what you thought of it."

"Y'mean, you think she's lying?"

"Maybe just being economical with the truth, Sir. One of the neighbors said she has a frequent gentleman caller. And those bruises on her arms, I'm sure you noticed those. If she's divorced, she can't have a brutish husband around to give her those."

"Yeah, I saw those."

"And you didn't ask about them?"

"She wouldn't have told us the truth about them, women never do." He stood up. "Right. I've got to put out the appeal. Make yourself useful while I'm gone, alright?"


	2. Chapter 2

After the appeal went out, a few calls came in that night and a few more in the morning when the appeal was repeated, but nothing was very helpful. Some callers said they saw the girl getting in a car, but no one noticed the registration or could give more than a vague description of the driver as being a white male. All of the reports were consistent, however, in stating that the girl seemed to know the driver and that she got in the car apparently by her own choice.

One of the constables, part of the team fielding the calls, popped his head into their office. "Sarge, the call on line two, I think you should take it. It's not about the abduction."

When he was done with the call, Hathaway hung up the phone. His face was pale, and slightly green. "A child's arm has been found in Hinksey."

By the time the two detectives arrived, a swarm of PCs, several with dogs, were searching the area—a large, green field bordered in woods and cut across by a footpath. One of them directed the men over to a thin, older gentleman with a good-sized spaniel on a lead. The dog was sitting quietly, watching all the activity with interest. But when the two men neared, he got to his feet excitedly, his stub of a tail wiggling madly. Hathaway misjudged the dog's range and jerked back when the long, wet tongue began to slobber at his hand. Lewis squatted down and rubbed the animal behind his ears while the dog delicately licked his face.

"You're a good dog, aren't you, lad?"

Hathaway's nose wrinkled in distaste.

Lewis stood up and held out his warrant card. "Mister Kelly? DI Lewis, DS Hathaway. Tell us about finding the arm?"

"Well, it was Tigger who found it. I let him run free in this area whenever we come here. I can't really tell where he found it. All of the sudden he appeared with it, running out from that underbrush with it in his mouth. Couldn't say where he'd been, he runs all over here and usually meets me at the gate on the other side of the field there." He gestured to a point far off in the distance.

They stayed while the search was conducted, but after hours of searching, nothing further had been found and the officers were called back in.

Lewis twisted his mouth the way he did when anticipating an unpleasant task. "Right. Forensics will be doing DNA on this. We should collect a hairbrush or something of Christie Taylor's, just in case." It was a mission that Lewis completed without bringing his sergeant with him.


	3. Chapter 3

By mid-morning the next day, they had gotten a call from the pathologist, Doctor Laura Hobson.

"Well, I can't tell a lot from this, but I can say that the arm does not belong to your missing girl. It's a boy's arm. Probably about ten years old. Are you missing another child, Inspector? It looks like the boy was already dead when the arm was separated, probably by an animal. Wasn't the arm found by a dog? A dog could have pulled it off the body. The boy would have died quite recently, yesterday, maybe? Sorry, it's not as easy to pinpoint with just a limb like this. And there's nothing to provide an identity unless we get a known DNA sample to compare."

After ringing off, Lewis turned to Hathaway. "Check into missing persons reports for the last couple of months, someone is missing a ten-year-old lad. But don't only limit it to boys. I want to know if there has been an increase in child abductions lately. Check nearby jurisdictions, too. I don't like how this is starting to look."

"And what will you be doing, Sir?"

"I'm taking the search team back to that footpath and anywhere else near where the arm was found."

Although both men worked all day, by evening only one of them had anything to show for it.

"I found several reports, Sir, over the last two months. Two more within Oxford, three in Surrey, and two in Wiltshire. None has been solved. Each involves a child between eight and ten, each simply disappeared without any apparent reason. I couldn't access the Met files; there may be more there."

"Can't access the Met's files, what's with that?"

"I don't know, Sir, it said I wasn't authorized. I sent a request for help to their IT but haven't gotten a response yet."

"Any of them boys?"

"Yeah, one that DI Watkins is working on, one from Wiltshire, and two from Surrey. I've requested DNA samples from each."

Lewis studied his junior officer. "This is getting worse, isn't it?"


	4. Chapter 4

The following day, they learned that the arm belonged to Jeremy West, the missing boy in the case DI Watkins was pursuing. Watkins issued a new appeal, hoping the recent disappearance of Christie Taylor would stir up more interest in Jeremy West, who had disappeared over two weeks earlier.

Lewis studied the air a while, then rose from his desk decisively. Hathaway cocked his head, curious.

"I need to hit the street, Hathaway, see if any of the more criminally-aware populace knows something about this that we don't. I'll call in every two hours; if I don't, something's happened." When Hathaway learned the areas Lewis planned to visit, he balked at the idea.

"Sir, you shouldn't be on your own for this. I'll drive separately, just so I'm close."

"They'll see you, Hathaway. As it is, I'll have to loiter for an hour to get approached. They can smell the cop on us, man. I'll be okay. It's not even dark yet."

* * *

Although he did not have any luck finding the first two informants he sought, Lewis did not have to wait as long as he had expected in the run-down area of the council estate.

"Robbie! You must be looking for me. Either that or they've pulled your badge and you're on the dole and going to be my new neighbor?" A rather thin, middle-aged woman approached him as he loitered on a street corner.

"Sparkle, love. You look good." She snorted at his blatant lie. She looked ill-used and hardened, but her smile for Lewis was genuine.

As was his. "Seriously, are you doing alright? How's your daughter?"

"Doreen is in nursing, did you know? Up in Manchester. She's met a fancy man who's quite in love with her, and he's paying for it. Imagine, my daughter, a nurse!"

"That's great! My daughter, Lyn, is in nursing at Manchester, too. I wonder if they've met. What a small world."

Sparkle eyed him with a twinkling look. "Now I suppose you want something from me. And I don't suppose it's what men always used to want. Though I wouldn't mind a little bit with you, Robbie. What can I do for you?" She took his hand and pressed it to her left breast.

He kept it there while he spoke, squeezing her a little. "You're trying to distract me, aren't you? What I'm wondering is how much you can tell about some recent child abductions. Not just here, but Surrey and Wiltshire, maybe London. What's going on?"

She was clearly enjoying his touch. "Mmm, how nice can you be to me? I might know quite a bit if you're very nice."

He took his hand away. "Aw, now, you know I can't have fun while I'm on the job. Would this do instead?" He took several notes out of his wallet.

She sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "One of these days, Robbie, I'll get in your trousers." She took the offered money and grew serious. "There's a kiddie porn operation, moved in from the north, I think. Out west of Hinksey somewhere. Most times, I mind my own business and let other people mind theirs, but this is nasty stuff. They've been flogging their garbage around here and down in Blackbird Leys, but most of the higher-quality product goes to London."

"What kind of product, everything?"

"Pretty much, yeah. Print, DVD, I've heard they even do live stuff on the Internet. They sell direct with their own salesmen, no set location." She peered at him. "Robbie, they're going to be tough to track down. And they're not nice men. They've roughed up a few would-be competitors and one of my neighbors, who threatened to report them."

"So they're kidnapping their child stars, is that it?"

"I don't know where they get the children from, but it's not a regular job for a boy or girl, now, is it?"

"What do they do for their . . . 'retirement' plan, shall we say?"

"They're not nice men, Robbie. That's all I'm saying."

"West of Hinksey, nothing more specific than that?"

"Sorry. An empty building somewhere west of Hinksey is all I've heard. I'll try to find out something more specific, love. You come back and see me again, okay?"

* * *

Lewis returned to the office and reported what he had learned. As they were writing up their new notes, Chief Superintendent Jean Innocent came over to the white board and read over their shoulders.

"You'll be wanting to compare notes with DI Haines, I should think, Lewis. Vice may have information on the material being produced by this operation." She continued to read, then frowned.

"You've only talked to the mother, this Jenny Taylor, once so far? Maybe she has a boyfriend who's involved in this pornography ring."

Lewis scowled. "I've talked to her one or two other times, but she's had no new information. I'm quite certain there's no boyfriend. But I'll call her again."

When they were back in the office, Hathaway just had to ask.

"I didn't know you'd talked to Jenny Taylor again, you never said."

"Oh, aye, I wanted to make certain she was doing alright. She seemed pretty broken up when we took her statement. I took her for a drink a couple times is all."

"A _couple_ of times? When did you even have time for that?"

"Well, the night the appeal aired, for one. I thought it might have upset her to hear it. And then when I went to get the hairbrush from her. She's not from here and doesn't have anyone else to talk to." His eyes lost focus with the present.

Hathaway was quick to pick up: _And neither does he_. A wicked little smile played at the corners of his mouth. _A little teasing might be fun here_.

"You know, I got the impression she fancies you."

"Did you?" Still wrapped in his thoughts, Lewis totally missed the wind-up.

Hathaway shifted strategy with the new information this response provided.

"I rather think you fancy her, too."

Lewis was visibly pulled back to the conversation at hand.

"Mind your own business, alright?"

Hathaway knew when to stop prodding.

* * *

Lewis put Hathaway in charge of seeing what DI Lizzy Haines could provide regarding contacts in the pornography trade and any other information she might have concerning a relatively new, child porn operation in the Oxford area.

"Take me out for a pint, James, and I'll tell you everything I know, okay?"

While they sipped their beers at The Trout, she filled him in on what she knew about the sales side of the business.

"They've filled a vacancy that opened up after we took down a big operation last year. They're fairly mobile and hard to track. Even the production side can pack up and leave wherever they're squatting at a moment's notice. The product features children of both genders, pre-teen. Most of it is pricey stuff and attracts what you would think of as a better class of clientele if you didn't know what they were up to in their free time."

She took a long pull from her pint.

"We think the brains of the outfit is a man named Matthias Jackson. He's a member of the Blackbird Club, and that's where he makes contacts for high-profit, high-volume sales."

"Oh, I've heard of that club. I think the Chief Super's husband is a member. Can't you set up a sting?"

"Unfortunately, all the Vice officers are known and it's not something we trust to a civilian plant. He's a dangerous man. No one actually dealing with him would ever admit to it, the potential penalties are too great. We simply don't have the right person to get him. Membership in that club is incredibly exclusive. My men would stand out a mile. What would be perfect would be a cop who isn't with Vice, who can masquerade as an Oxford gentleman. Someone with genuine breeding."

They sipped their beers a while, and the same idea struck them both at once.

* * *

Lewis was also enjoying an evening out. Jenny had delighted in their dinner at Lewis's favorite Italian restaurant, and now they were finishing the Lambrusco he had selected to accompany the meal. Despite her anxiety over Christie, she was relaxed and seemed to be having a good time. And, he noted happily, so was he.


	5. Chapter 5

When he arrived at the office in the morning, Lewis found it empty, but with obvious signs that Hathaway had already been at work. His computer was on and his desk chair was pushed out. Hathaway _always_ pushed his chair in at the end of the workday. As soon as he got his computer up and had logged in, Lewis found the email message from Hathaway, telling him to come to Innocent's office as soon as possible. _Could have just left me a bloody note, Sergeant_.

It was clear that the Chief Super and the younger partner had something in the works. "So, what's happening?" Lewis pulled up a chair.

Hathaway told him what he had learned from Lizzy Haines the night before. "So the trick is getting someone to infiltrate the club, find this Matthias Jackson, and get him to make a sale."

Jean took up the narrative. "Mister Innocent is a member of the Blackbird Club. He's willing to propose James for membership. James will be able to attend as long as my husband is present at the club."

"You trust Hathaway to do this, and not me?"

Innocent looked incredulous. "Lewis! The Blackbird Club members are the cream of society, titled men and aristocrats. You wouldn't qualify as a waiter, let alone a member."

He knew it was true, and that he would despise having to attend a place populated by men of that sort, but he still fell prey to being insulted by the snobbery of such an institution.

"Yeah, I can't hold a candle to the likes of a man dealing in kiddie porn." That drew a glare from Innocent, which was exactly what he wanted.

After they had worked out the details of the plan, the two men returned to their office. Lewis was still rather grumpy, but tried to make peace. After all, he was relieved he would not have to dress up and try to make small talk with any number of pompous, posh sods.

"Well, be sure to tell us what Mister Innocent is like. You'll be the first person we know to actually talk to this elusive character."

He reviewed his notes on the case. "Did you learn anything else useful from Lizzy?"

"Nothing more than Innocent told you. Except she can drink more beer than any woman I have ever known." Hathaway paused a moment. "What did you do last night? I stopped by your place to tell you what Lizzy said, but you weren't in."

Hathaway could almost see the defenses rolling into position.

"I went out for dinner."

"Oh, not with Jenny Taylor, again, Sir?" Lewis didn't answer, which was as good as an answer. "Sir, do you really think that's wise? She could be involved in this somehow, protecting someone."

"I think I can decide what I should and should not be doing, Sergeant, thank you. No mother would be involved in the disappearance of her own daughter, she's not protecting anyone."

"If you say so, Sir."

That topic of conversation was, without a doubt, closed.

* * *

Hathaway's first visit to the Blackbird Club was that evening. He was required to stay close to Mister Innocent the entire time, which was fine with him for this visit. He did not want to appear unfamiliar with the way things were run in a club of this caliber but, in fact, he was. However, his host talked endlessly about his investments and Hathaway soon found this droning was lulling him into a stupor. He practically had to pinch himself to stay alert. For a change of pace, he asked the man to introduce him to as many members as walked in the door, and although Mister Innocent confessed to not knowing all of them by sight, he clearly recognized all the names. He also knew that they were specifically looking for Matthias Jackson, although he did not know what the man looked like. They were both disappointed when Jackson did not show that evening.

* * *

In his darkened flat, Lewis put down the phone and sat heavily on the sofa. Jenny had seemed aloof when he called, declining his invitation to go have a drink. Something about the way she said it led him to think that she was really asking him not to go out with her again at all. She said it wasn't right, him seeing her, but denied having a boyfriend when he asked her point-blank. He asked her about the bruises on her arm, too, and she denied that either a boyfriend or her ex-husband had inflicted them. Instead, she claimed to have gotten them while moving her things into her sister's flat. But Lewis had seen bruises like that before, and knew better.

But then when she told him she had found a flat in London and was moving the very next day, she gave him the address and asked him to please look her up next time he was in the City. So what was he to make of that? He sat in the dark, mulling over her words, trying to remember them exactly. How could she give him a brush-off and a come-on in the same phone call? Unless one of them was unintended. And the invitation was clear. He must have simply misinterpreted the first part of the conversation. Probably she felt bad about leaving town so suddenly and had trouble expressing her disappointment. She would have been troubled by having to move while they were still no closer to finding Christie. Lewis felt much better after having convinced himself this was the case.


	6. Chapter 6

The following day saw both men reworking the details of the case and not getting much of anywhere. Lewis met with Mister Kelly, the owner of the dog that found the arm, and together they reviewed a map of the area where Kelly had been walking with his dog. The area was a rather wide stretch of undeveloped forest, field, and brush. Based on the length of time the dog was gone, and the speed at which he could travel, the two men estimated the territory the dog could have covered when he found the arm. Hathaway assigned a team of constables to find out what empty buildings existed in that area. It was going to be a big project if they couldn't narrow the area any more than that.

That evening, Hathaway again attended the Blackbird Club. Because it was not his first time there, Mister Innocent felt free to leave him on his own and get involved in discussing with his business associates the intricacies of mutual funds. Hathaway leaned on the bar and soon found himself in conversation with the barman. He was able to steer the dialogue, insinuating that he was recently arrived in Oxford, single, and had the sort of personality that enjoyed a certain type of entertainment that was not exactly legal.

The barman was a man of world and understood exactly what Hathaway was saying. He nodded toward a dark corner of the room. "That fellow over there is someone you should get to know. Matthias Jackson."

Hathaway thanked the barman, tipped him generously, and approached Jackson. He was a big man, nearly a head taller than Hathaway, and twice as broad. He had a thin, mean-looking mouth and small eyes. They entered into the cautious, weaving sort of conversation men engage in when they are each trying to find out more than they give away.

To say that Hathaway found their discussion disturbing would be an understatement. Jackson had the air of a man who was accustomed to being seen as menacing, and he came off as reckless and bullying. Hathaway had to convince the big man that his prurient interest in children was genuine, and this was a man familiar with people of that inclination. It was a dangerous game.

By the end of the evening, Hathaway was not sure if Jackson had figured out his real identity. Certainly, they had joked about his being a cop, but that was expected. Hathaway did his best to maintain an erudite manner completely inconsistent with what most people expected of policemen. As they shook hands when Hathaway was ready to part ways, Jackson leaned forward and put his lips to the younger man's ear.

"Come tomorrow night at ten and you'll find someone who'll have something young and tender for you to feast on." He slipped a piece of paper into James's hand.


	7. Chapter 7

Hathaway barely had time to report to Lewis about his night's work before the telephone rang, with news of another abduction. A young boy was missing, his bicycle found out west of the Hinksey golf course. For most of the way, Lewis piloted the Vauxhall in silence, his mouth drawn tight.

"This narrows the search area quite a bit. I met with my source again last night, she said we're looking for an empty house, an estate. Near woods, west of the golf course. This fits right with that."

"How does that work, anyway, your 'source'? Do you pay her or what? Some other kind of _quid pro quo_?" Hathaway loaded the phrase with all possible implications.

Lewis cocked an eyebrow at him. "Y'know, you look like such a well-mannered lad. No wonder you're perfect for this Jackson sting. Clean looks, dirty mind."

"Only trying to learn advanced policing from my senior officer, Sir."

Lewis twisted a smile. "We have a little game where she teases me about wanting my body and I pay her real cash instead. Naw, she's a good woman who's had some hard times, is all. They were going to take away her daughter when she was born. I pulled some strings and helped her get straight and they let her keep the girl. I've kept after her since then to make certain she stayed clean."

Hathaway was a bit surprised by his governor's willingness to get personally involved in someone else's life, but the result—two people's lives improved—fit with his overall image of the older man.

Hathaway assigned constables both on the ground to search the area and in the office, combing real estate records and satellite photos, as well as reports of unsecured vacant houses, break-ins, and the like. By noon, they had the possible homes narrowed down to about ten. Teams of officers were sent out to check all the targeted premises.

The two men glanced at each other across their desks when a mobile rang. Lewis's expectant expression changed suddenly when he realized it was his, and not Hathaway's. He pulled it out, checked the screen, and flicked it on.

"Hi, Pet." He listened for a while, and the smile that appeared on his face when he saw it was his daughter calling slowly faded. "I know her, Pet. We go way back, y'know. I'll see what I can do. God, I hope nothing's happened. I'll ring you as soon as I know anything, okay? Love you. Bye."

He stared for a moment before turning to Hathaway. "That was our Lyn. Y'know, my informant's daughter, Doreen, goes to school with her, turns out they know each other quite well. Doreen was expecting her mum to phone last night but she didn't. She always calls at the same time. And now she isn't answering Doreen's call, either. If these people found her, found out she was giving me information . . ."

Dread filled his face. "I have a bad feeling about this, Hathaway."

Late that afternoon, Lewis's fears were confirmed when they were called to a skip in an alley near the corner where Lewis had met with Sparkle. Her throat had been cut.

Lewis stood staring, his jaw tight, as Doctor Hobson checked over the body. She glanced up every now and then, concern clear in her eyes. Lewis didn't seem to notice. Hathaway came and stood next to his senior officer, touching his elbow once, lightly.

"Too much to hope that this is coincidence, isn't it?" he said, gently.

Lewis sighed in response. "Hard to escape the feeling that this is my fault. I'll have to call Doreen back and tell her." Hathaway could see that his eyes glistened.

When they returned to the office, Chief Superintendent Innocent was waiting for them. "Lewis, I've arranged a meeting between you and Commander Joseph Blakely of the Met. He's in charge of their efforts to track down this child porn ring in their jurisdiction. It's at nine-thirty tomorrow morning, will that work for you?"

"I can be there by then. You're not coming, too?" It would be unusual for him to be considered the ranking officer on an operation of this size.

"I would but, as I already explained to Commander Blakely, I have a mandatory meeting here with the Chief Constable until who-knows-when in the afternoon." It was apparent she was not looking forward to it.

"How long will this be?" He was remembering Hathaway would be meeting Jackson's dealer that night, and they might well be busy the next day.

"Just an hour, I'd say. They have even less than we do, I think."

Later, he and Hathaway argued about the night's scheduled rendezvous.

"You can't go into this area at ten at night by yourself, man! Even if you weren't meeting someone whose associates have killed at least one person so far. The local residents are already too dangerous. Get backup, have them stay a street or two away."

"No way. Sir, this Jackson already is suspicious of me, I'm certain of it. Backup will be seen and it will spoil everything. I'm not having my evening spent listening to Mister Innocent ranting about the market go for naught. And if they suspect me, being tailed by backup could make it _more_ dangerous, if they figure out who I really am."

Lewis scowled, but had to agree with the logic of Hathaway's argument. Still, he was far from happy about it. Hathaway would be carrying cash, lots of it, because he had not been told how much whatever it was he was acquiring would cost. No, James could not be left on his own tonight.

* * *

Hathaway arrived at the given address three minutes early. It was very dark; the street lights were all broken in this area of empty warehouses and incomplete chain-link fence topped in razor wire. Buildings were placed with no apparent plan and there was no clear view for any distance along the drives and ways through the place.

More than once, Hathaway was certain he heard a car engine, but he saw nothing. He was on the verge of giving up when he heard a footstep behind him. He whirled, and there was a person standing with his (_or her?_) back to the minimal light filtering from a hoarding on the roof of the adjacent building.

"Am I meeting you?" Hathaway struggled to keep his voice level.

"Is that why you're here?" A man's voice, with an accent of uncertain origin, Eastern European, perhaps? Turkish? _Fake?_

"You have something for me." Hathaway hoped he sounded blasé about the whole thing, as if he did this sort of dealing all the time.

The man held out a manila envelope. James held out two hundred pounds sterling. He had consulted with Lizzy Haines about pricing, and though it was highly variable, the amount he offered was, according to what she had told him, reasonable for something of this size, sight unseen.

The man retained the envelope. "It's another hundred for delivery."

Hathaway sized him up. "That's not what I was told."

The man hissed.

"But you can have fifty for your trouble." James added to the notes he was holding.

They made the exchange without further negotiation. The man smiled thinly. "Pleasure doing business. If you like that, you know who to see about getting more. Now please turn around and go back the way you came."

Hathaway did as he was told. The streets here all looked the same and he began to panic that he had lost his way. _Where was the car?_ Heart pounding, he stopped short, and realized he heard footsteps stop immediately after he had, but not quite soon enough. He was being followed. He swallowed and started walking again, this time with his ears straining to hear behind him. He turned a corner and dodged into an immediately adjacent doorway, but continued to step, making it sound as if he were still walking.

A person turned the corner and stopped upon finding the street empty. Hathaway flung himself out of the doorway, knocking the person down, and began pounding with his fists.

"Whoa, Hathaway, for God's sake man, it's me!"

"What the hell are you doing here, Sir?"

"I was watching, making sure you were alright, is all. I was afraid they were going to have you followed or something worse." He took Hathaway's offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, brushing off the cinders and dust of the street.

"Sorry about hitting you, Sir."

"'S'okay, it's good to know you can defend yourself. Sorry if I scared you." He nodded toward Hathaway's car, where his was now parked behind it. "Doesn't seem that they had anyone watching you after all. Shall we go see what it is you've bought?"

But Lewis was wrong. They were both being watched as they got in their cars and drove away.


	8. Chapter 8

Lewis was not in the best mood for the meeting with Commander Blakely and the rest of the Met officers. He had arrived shortly after eight at Jenny's flat, but she wasn't there. It had been her idea to meet. He had called to mention he was going to be in the City, and she suggested breakfast, since she had to work later in the morning and wouldn't be available when his meeting was over.

But no one answered the bell, and he even stuck his head in the door and hallooed for her, but to no avail. One of them must have mixed up the day or time, or some other detail. All he could do was call her machine and leave a message. He found a coffee shop and fueled up on that alone, not feeling much like eating anything. As nine o'clock came and went, he sighed, pitched the paper cup in the rubbish, and headed for the police station.

* * *

By mid-morning, Hathaway's team had narrowed down the possible houses, first to two, then to one when one of the two turned out to be simply vacant. But he was hesitant to stage a raid without getting the green light from Lewis. And he knew he was not to interrupt Lewis in his meeting with the Met. All he could do was fidget, waiting for Lewis to call.

_The enormity of what was happening right in Oxford had been brought home to him the night before, when he and Lewis returned to the office to look over Hathaway's purchase. It was a DVD with video footage of children engaging in obscene acts with themselves, other children, and adult men. Lewis had clicked it ahead after each scene had played only a few seconds. When he had noticed the younger man's horrified expression, he had switched it off, stating that they'd seen enough to get a conviction. Hathaway had gone for a cigarette then, hoping it would cover up the taste of bile in his mouth. But he ended up puking his guts out before he could get one lit. When he didn't return to the office after the usual interval, Lewis came for him, finding Hathaway with his back pressed against the wall, shivering, his face wet with tears. Lewis had said nothing, simply taking him by the arm and guiding him back to the office in silence_.

Fortunately, Lewis's meeting was over as scheduled and he phoned Hathaway minutes after ten-thirty. Hathaway caught him up to date.

"Sir, we've identified the house and we're ready for a raid." Hathaway reviewed his preparations for the raid and Lewis approved, making almost no changes.

"Don't wait for me, James. Go now. They'll be gone in a wink if they get wind of a raid. I'll come out straightaway when the train gets in. And I'll risk the Chief's wrath and phone her. She should know we're going ahead with this. Call me if you have a result before I get there. And Hathaway, think about doing a K-9 search of the grounds. We need to find that missing lad."

The raid was coordinated with DI Haines's Vice squad, but Hathaway would be the officer in charge until Lewis arrived. He was surprised at the thrill he got from setting all the pieces in motion, getting the raid underway. If they hadn't been dealing with something so awful, he would have found it exciting.

But they were too late. The squatters must have fled during the night, tipped off somehow. Yet in their haste to abandon the site, they had left behind plenty of evidence. Photographic and video production equipment, rooms arranged as settings, and several boxes of DVDs and finished photographs remained.

One of the PCs called Hathaway over to a large room. Inside, they had found four small sleeping cots with rumpled blankets. It appeared the perpetrators still held captive children. Hathaway organized the collection of the evidence, including fingerprints and other possible means of identifying the participants. And he ordered a K-9 search of the grounds.

It wasn't long before his phone rang in two-way mode. "Sarge, this is Jacobs, K-9 Sergeant. You better come out here."


	9. Chapter 9

The dogs had not taken long to find the shallow grave in the woods to the north of the estate. Only a thin layer of dirt covered the naked body of a boy lying face up. An arm was missing from his body. When Hathaway was close enough to see, Jacobs pointed to a small foot protruding from the dirt, toes pointing into the earth.

"There's more than one here, James. Better get a pathologist out, pronto."

When Doctor Hobson arrived, she found Hathaway sitting in his car, eyes fixed forward, unmoving. The car door was open and he held a lit, but forgotten, cigarette, its ash long at the end.

"James. They said you're in charge." She waited, but no response came. She touched his shoulder and he flinched.

"James?" Her gentlest voice. She kept her hand on his shoulder. He dropped the cigarette and reached up, covering her hand with his. And he turned his head toward her. She could see his eyes were filled with tears and that he had been crying.

"Laura." His voice was a whisper. "I can't do this. I can't handle it. All I can think about is how frightened they must have been in their final moments of life. How can so much evil be allowed to exist?"

She put her other hand on his other shoulder and pulled him into her while he sobbed. "They aren't frightened any more, James. Now we have to do what we can to end the fear of the ones who are still out there."

He squeezed her hard around the waist and pulled free. "You're right, Doctor." He found a box of tissues in the console between the seats and blew his nose. "I'll be okay. You go do your job."

She gave his shoulder a final squeeze and headed for the swarm of SOCOs working by the hole in the ground.

A few minutes later, one of the constables approached. "Sarge? Inspector Lewis is here. He's looking for you."

Hathaway got out of the car. "Take me to him."

The constable led him to where the forensic team was carefully removing the bodies from the grave after having marked and thoroughly photographed everything. Lewis nodded a greeting.

There were five in all; two boys and three girls. The boy missing an arm had been the uppermost body; the others had been laid below him, two each side-by-side in two layers. Doctor Hobson examined the boy closely.

"This was something an animal did probably about a week ago. Most likely shortly after he was buried. He wouldn't have been dead very long before that. Eight or nine days? I'll know more after I examine him but it's consistent with the arm itself." She stood up and moved closer to the detectives to keep her voice low.

"There are small burns—cigarette, maybe—on his chest. And definite signs of sexual abuse, anal penetration and abrasions on his genitals."

At this information, Hathaway turned sharply and walked a few steps away, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

Hobson looked at Lewis inquiringly as the older man's gaze followed his sergeant. His mouth firmed in concern.

"His shell's still a bit soft, y'know? He hasn't seen quite so many of the evils of the world as you and I have."

She studied him. "Shouldn't you be helping him through this kind of thing?"

"Help him, _how_? He has to grow his own calluses, there's no other way to do this job, Doctor."

She frowned. "I know all about calluses from my job, too, Lewis. They take time to toughen. Too much, too soon, and you only end up raw and bloody."

His eyes narrowed. "He'll get used to human depravity the same way I learned: by having it shoved in me face at regular intervals. I'm not a bloody counselor."

"No, no one would accuse you of that, certainly." She turned back to the hole in the ground.

He huffed and rolled his eyes. But he came up behind Hathaway, quietly. "You okay?"

Hathaway whirled. He hadn't heard Lewis approach. "Yeah, I'm fine. . . . I'm fine."

Lewis touched his elbow. "I know this kind of thing takes its toll. You have to focus on stopping the people who are doing this, alright?"

"I said, I'm _fine_."

"Okay, okay." Lewis withdrew, somewhat miffed that his extraordinary effort was so underappreciated.

Laura watched them from where she stood. It was almost, but not quite, funny. They were fine if they didn't have to talk. Force them to converse, and communication went right down the drain. _Men_.

When the second body was brought out, Lewis recognized Christie from her photo. He sucked in air and held it, while he considered the words he would use to tell Jenny about this.


	10. Chapter 10

They had returned to the office, and Lewis had not yet contacted Jenny. It would be one of the more difficult versions of what was never a simple thing: telling a mother that her child was dead. He didn't want to tell her over the phone; he had decided to either take the train or get a PC to drive him to London. While he was there, he could find out what had gone amiss with their attempted breakfast date. Unhappily, he mulled over the several permutations of "I'm so sorry" that he had used over the years.

Lewis's thoughts were interrupted when the phone on his desk rang.

"Yeah, Inspector Lewis." He listened briefly. "Okay, send them on through." He hung up the phone and looked up at Hathaway. "DI Janis Ward from the Met wants to see me. And she's brought a couple of PCs." He was clearly puzzled. "What do you s'pose this is about?"

Hathaway had no more idea than Lewis.

Within moments, a rather petite woman with a dark-haired bob appeared in their doorway.

"Inspector Lewis?" She frankly assessed him as he scrambled to his feet.

He held out his right hand. "Robbie, please." She was, after all, his equal.

She did not take his offered hand. "Can we talk privately?" She glanced pointedly at Hathaway.

James shot a look at Lewis. He would not leave without direction from his boss. It was only when Lewis snapped his eyes toward the door that Hathaway unfolded himself from his desk.

"I'll just go for a smoke, Sir, if that's alright." And out he went. One of the PCs followed him, leaving Lewis with a slightly uneasy feeling.

DI Ward watched them go, then turned to Lewis. "Inspector Lewis. Can you tell me where you were between half six and nine this morning?"

"I was in London for a meeting with your lot."

"Could you be more specific, please? Your exact movements and times?"

He frowned. This sounded like an investigation. "I left the flat just after six and caught the six-twenty-seven to Paddington. It was running late. When I got there, I took the Tube to Whitechapel, and walked to the flat of a friend." He stopped there.

"What time did you arrive at your friend's flat?"

"I dunno, a quarter past eight? I was supposed to be there at eight-thirty and we were going to go to breakfast."

"Breakfast."

"Yeah." _What was this about?_

"And when you got to the flat?"

"Well, I rang the bell but she didn't answer. I rang twice. I checked the door and it wasn't locked, so I opened it and stuck my head in and called her name. I thought maybe she was in the loo or something."

DI Ward looked at him expectantly.

He continued. "She didn't answer. I assumed she wasn't there and one of us mixed something up. So I left." He felt the seed of apprehension taking root and growing in his mind.

"And then?"

"I went to breakfast by m'self and from there I went to the meeting with Commander Blakely and some of the DIs. We have some cases that seem to be related, a child pornography operation."

"What time was the meeting?"

"Half nine. Finished around ten-thirty or maybe a bit after. I was on the train before eleven."

"This friend, how long have you known her?"

"A week, about—six days, maybe? Something like that."

"Were you intimate?"

He was taken aback by the question. "What—you mean—_sex_? I've only just met her!"

She smiled. "Just answer the question, please."

"No, not sex, of course not!" The focus on him and Jenny he found disturbing, and he nearly missed Ward's use of the past tense, _were_. "Has something happened? Is she alright?"

"Is who alright? You haven't told us yet whom it was you were visiting."

"Jenny Taylor. What's going on, Inspector? Why are you asking me all this?" He found it extraordinarily difficult to conceal the increasing alarm in his voice.

"Jenny Taylor was sexually assaulted and killed this morning, Inspector. Some time between seven and nine." DI Ward locked her eyes on him. "Can you tell me, why is there blood on your shoes?"

He followed her eyes downward and saw that, indeed, there were blotches that could be blood on the toes of both his shoes. He looked up sharply. It took all his effort to still the panic he felt. _Jenny, murdered!_

"I . . . I don't know. Is it blood? What happened to her?"

DI Ward assessed his frightened demeanor. "Robert Lewis, I'm arresting you for the rape and murder of Jenny Taylor. Brooks?" She turned to the PC waiting behind her. "Caution him, collect his shoes, and 'cuff him."

Lewis was astounded. "_Cuffs?_"

She looked at him shrewdly. "Orders, Lewis. I'm told you're slippery and dangerous."

PC Brooks recited the caution and waited while Lewis removed his shoes and slid them into an evidence bag. Then Brooks clicked the handcuffs snugly around Lewis's wrists. _I can't believe this is happening_. "You've got the wrong man, Inspector."

She considered him, coolly. "Your fingerprints are all over the door, there's blood on your shoes, you admit you were there at the right time, and let me guess: jilted lover? Or merely unsuccessful? I think I have the _right_ man, Lewis."

She was not using his rank any more, he noticed. "You were jealous and angry, and you raped her and cut her throat, isn't that right?"

She pushed him toward the door and then down the corridor.

Lewis was too numb to answer. As they made their way out, his colleagues peered out of their offices. Hathaway and the other Met PC were just coming back inside. Alarmed at what he was seeing, Hathaway hurried forward and intercepted the procession.

"Excuse me, Ma'am? Inspector Ward?" He remembered the name Lewis had mentioned earlier.

She stopped and turned, giving him the once-over. "You're his sergeant?"

"Yes, Ma'am, James Hathaway." James tried to look cooperative and at the same time shot a sideways glance at Lewis. _What the hell was happening? Lewis in handcuffs?_ He saw Lewis shake his head in confusion and dismay. And something approaching panic. "May I ask what is going on, Inspector?" Hathaway tried to appear detached and curious.

She cast her eyes up and down. "Your governor is under arrest for raping and murdering a woman this morning in London. What time did he arrive here today?"

"He met us at a crime scene, where we'd been called out. Around noon, I think. I didn't pay much attention to the time."

"I see. Thank you, Sergeant." The two PCs pushed Lewis ahead of them. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes wild.

"James! Take care of me cat, will you?"

Ward turned to Hathaway again. "Does it surprise you to learn your guv acted so violently?"

He stared her directly in the eyes. "There is no one less likely to commit rape and murder than Robert Lewis." It took a supreme effort to maintain a calm appearance.

Her expression didn't change, and she handed him her card. "If you think of anything that will help our investigation, please call me."

After they left, Hathaway tried several direct and indirect methods of extracting more information about the investigation from the Met, calling through proper channels, calling through back channels, working through the Met's computer maze. Nothing worked.

As soon as Chief Superintendent Innocent returned from her meeting, Hathaway put in a request to see her. Soon after, she knocked on the office door.

"You wanted something, Sergeant? I hope this is to explain these rumors I just heard about Inspector Lewis being _arrested_, of all things. What has been happening, Hathaway?"

Hathaway took his time.

"Ma'am." He inhaled through his nose. "Yes. Inspector Lewis, Ma'am . . ." He wasn't sure how to put this. He decided the best approach was a direct one.

Innocent continued to wait for him to complete the sentence. She cocked her head, anticipating, her eyes bright.

"He's been arrested by the Met for rape and murder." His despairing look told her all she needed to know. Somewhere, someone had gotten the facts horribly wrong.

"James." She reached out and put a hand on his arm. "This has to be a mistake, right? My God, Robbie of all people." She blinked, as if that would focus reality on what really must have happened.

Then she squared her shoulders. "I'll call the Met. They must have something wrong. Who's the officer in charge?"

Hathaway handed her DI Ward's card.

"Oh, Janis Ward! I went to school with her, she's brilliant!"

Hathaway looked unconvinced. "Well, then you can talk to her, Ma'am, find out what they have. No way could Lewis have done anything like that, you have to tell her." He chewed his lip. "_You have to tell her_."


	11. Chapter 11

No one said anything to Lewis during the long ride back to London. The cuffs bit into the skin of his wrists where the curve didn't quite match his bones. He and Hathaway almost never handcuffed anyone, and he could not conceive of why he would be considered, what had she said? "Slippery and dangerous"? This had to be one serious mistake.

When they arrived at the station he was processed by the custody sergeant and his personal belongings—really, just what he had in his pockets—were taken from him. Then he was put in an empty cell, still cuffed, still without his shoes. This station was quite a bit larger than theirs in Oxford, and the occupants of the other cells were noisy. The floor felt damp through his socks. He didn't want to think about what made it so. No one came to talk to him or take him out for questioning.

* * *

Innocent had to wait several hours before Janis Ward returned her call that evening. "Hi, Janis, it's been a long time, hasn't it? I understand you have one of my detectives down there. Can you tell me anything about that?"

"Now Jean, it's an ongoing investigation, so I really can't talk about it, you know that. What I will say is that we have the evidence to arrest him, he doesn't deny he was there at the time of the crime, and the rest of it only fits one way. Anyway, it's really my governor's investigation, he is very hands-on for this one. It seems he has some history with Lewis, I'm not certain what exactly. He wants this done a particular way and he seems positive Lewis is our man. Frankly, I get the feeling there's something about Lewis he's holding back from me, I'm not certain what or why."

Jean sighed. "I'm really sorry to hear that. I promise you Lewis is not guilty, I can't imagine why so far there's no other explanation for the evidence. I've never known him to lie about anything. I'm not even certain he can. Whatever is going on there, please be very careful and question all of it, would you? He's my best detective and really quite a dear man. And he was in the middle of an important investigation; I need him back on the job as soon as possible."

"I'll keep that in mind, Jean. As I said, my guv is running the show on this one. But I'll try to double-check everything, alright?"

* * *

It was during the night, after things had quieted down a little, that his cell door suddenly opened and two custody officers jerked him to his feet off the metal slab that passed for a cot and hauled him out. They marched him down several corridors to an interview room. DI Ward was waiting for him there. The officers shoved him down into the chair.

"Well, Lewis, I hope you've had some time to think about things." She was practically purring. "How are you doing so far?"

"Well, if I could have these handcuffs removed I'd be a lot more comfortable. I'm finding it a bit difficult to do things with them on."

"Do . . . _things_?"

"Y'know. Eat. Sleep." He paused, and decided it might help his case to look more vulnerable. "It's really hard to . . . y'know. Relieve m'self."

To his embarrassment, she looked as if she was picturing it. "Ah. Yes, I see. I'm sorry, Lewis, this isn't about your comfort or your dignity. It's a matter of security. The cuffs stay on."

She became more businesslike. "Right. Why don't you tell me now what really happened. I'm sure you didn't intend for things to get so out of hand, did you?"

He set his mouth. "Nothing got out of hand, Inspector. It happened exactly as I told you before."

Her tone turned impatient. "DNA confirms that the blood on your shoes is Jenny Taylor's blood, Lewis. And that simply does not fit with the story you told. Care to explain that?"

_How had her blood gotten on his shoes? _He wracked his brain for forgotten memories of the day's details."There must have been blood on the mat by the door, and I stepped in it when I stepped onto the mat."

She appeared interested in this theory. "'There _must have been_ blood'? You're not certain?"

"It was dark by her doorway. I remember thinking it wasn't very safe, what with her living in a rather dodgy area." He was convincing himself that this must be what had happened.

"I see. So the blood was already on the mat, and you didn't see it but stepped into it when you rang the bell and opened the door just enough to poke your head inside."

"Yeah, I'd have to say that must be it."

She shook her head. "Only one problem, Lewis. There was no doormat. No blood, no mat. The only blood you could have stepped in was the pool around her severed neck on the bedroom floor."

"No, there _was_ a mat, I'm certain of it."

"Are you saying my forensic crew can't manage to find a doormat covered in blood? Or that it was misplaced somehow by the exhibits officer?"

"I don't know what happened to the doormat, Ma'am." He managed a weak smile.

She struck him hard across the face. He gasped at the unexpected show of force and tasted blood in his mouth.

"Enough of your lies, Lewis! We have the evidence to put you away. You should be thinking about how a bit of cooperation might be a good thing for you."

If he hadn't been so startled by her attack, he might have thought twice before responding bitterly. "You certainly do things differently here than we do back in Oxford. I'd like to see my solicitor and your Chief Super. I can't imagine this is considered proper procedure."

She raised her hand as if to hit him again, and he flinched in anticipation. "Don't presume to tell me proper procedure, Lewis." Then she nodded toward the one-way glass window, and moments later, the interview room door opened. She smiled in that direction. "Yes, Chief, Lewis was just asking to talk to you."

"That's fine, I'd like to talk to him, too. You can go, Janis." A rather silky, male voice.

She left the room, and her Chief Superintendent entered.

He smiled broadly at Lewis. "Hello, Bob."


	12. Chapter 12

On his way over to Doctor Hobson's lab, it occurred to Hathaway that no one had told her of Lewis's arrest the day before. Unmistakably, the task had just now fallen in his lap. He took a deep breath and entered the morgue.

She had five bodies out on slabs, covered with sheets. Small bodies. She looked past Hathaway as he entered, as if she expected him to be followed.

"No Lewis?"

"No, Doctor. Look, he—" Hathaway wasn't certain how to say it.

She could tell something was wrong. "James, what is it?"

He dove in. "He was arrested yesterday by the Met. For the rape and murder of this woman he knows in London. She's the mother of one of those dead children. It's crazy, of course it's not him, but they're still holding him and no one can talk to him or see him."

She was astounded. "How could they be so wrong?"

"I don't know, maybe they have the wrong Robert Lewis or something. I feel like I should be doing something to help and I can't manage _anything_. Innocent knows the inspector on the case and tried to score some sympathy for Lewis, but the inspector says really her guv is the driving force. Apparently, there's some kind of history between them. Maybe this Johnson guy is out to get him."

"Johnson?" Laura felt a chill run down her spine.

"Yeah, that's the Chief Super there, Martin Johnson." He was alarmed by the sudden change in her. "Laura, what's wrong?"

Her hand was over her mouth. "Oh, God. James, Marty Johnson was here back when Morse was alive. He tried to steal Robbie away from Morse, tried to drive a wedge between them, and made Robbie feel all frustrated and underappreciated. He played on that, flattering Robbie and trying to bribe him with a promotion. But in the end, it was all in an effort to hurt Morse. Then Johnson let Robbie go by himself into a nearly fatal situation and Morse saved his life, risking his own. Well, Robbie saw the whole thing had nothing to do with him, it was all about Johnson needling Morse. It's my understanding Robbie basically told Johnson to sod off and made it very public that he would stick by Morse no matter what."

Her description was stirring a recollection in Hathaway's memory. "He told me about that, I think. Isn't that the time that woman nearly shot him and he had to dig his own grave?"

"Yes, that's it. James, when Johnson left Oxford he made no secret of the fact that he _hated_ Morse and Robbie, both."

"So, what are you saying? He'd do something that would ruin his career, just to get some kind of sick revenge on Lewis? Who would do that?"

"I'm not sure he was all that stable, mentally. I went out with him once and he had a really unhealthy, huge ego."

Hathaway looked interested. "You went out with him?"

"Just to The Trout, if you must know. But he was so awful, I faked a headache to get him to take me home early." She shuddered a little at the memory. "Anyway, if he's the driving force behind this arrest, and other things aren't stacking up, I think you better see about going over his head in their hierarchy if you can."

She frowned for a bit, her attention now drawn to the bodies laid out in the room. She put a hand on his arm. "I hate to ask, but are you up for discussing dead children?"

* * *

"You don't have quite so much attitude any more, do you, Bob?" Johnson continued to circle the table at which Lewis sat, his linked hands cradling his aching head. Johnson had unleashed his full strength in a blow against the left side of Lewis's face, breaking the skin and even knocking him cold for a few minutes. Johnson forced him back to consciousness by bending Lewis's little finger backward until the bone snapped. Lewis had cried out, despite his determination to give Johnson no satisfaction.

"You better start talking to me, Bob. I've had training in what we can call 'effective interview techniques.'" He let his meaning sink in before continuing. "I can make you wish I would just kill you." He smiled broadly, showing his pointed teeth. "But I won't. It's more fun when you want death. _Really_ want death."

"Why are you doing this?" It was all he could do to draw any of his focus away from the incredible center of pain that was his broken finger.

"You really don't know, do you?" Johnson gave an exaggerated sigh. "Such a simple man."

He slammed Lewis across the shoulder blades, driving his face into the tabletop and eliciting a sharp gasp of pain. Then circling to the other side of the table, he sat down in the chair opposite Lewis, grabbed his prisoner's chin, and pulled Lewis's battered face to within an inch of his own.

"_You crossed me_," he hissed, spitting a spray of saliva at Lewis on the _s_. "You were supposed to help me get back at Morse, that pompous, arrogant, _stupid_ sod!" He was shouting by now, spittle flying from his lips.

Lewis couldn't stop himself from replying.

"Chief Inspector Morse might have been pompous and arrogant but he was never stupid."

The comment earned him another blow to his shoulders. Lewis abstractedly noticed the table bore smears of blood that weren't there before. Someone was bleeding.

"You should have come with me, Bob. You'd be years ahead of where you are now, and you'd be _here_—with the Met!" Then he focused on some unseen point of the past. "And Morse would have died knowing there was _no one_ who cared shit about him." He started to laugh. It was a demented sound that sent chills down Lewis's aching spinal column. He heard the click of the recorder being engaged.

"And now, Bob, tell me about how you killed Jenny Taylor."


	13. Chapter 13

Hathaway returned to the office with the names of the children who had been identified. All had been sexually molested, and some had been physically abused in other ways. Cigarette burns, small cuts, bruises, and other injuries were abundant. Hobson described it all as gently as she could, taking time for Hathaway to get over each case as she explained, and offering him a welcome cup of tea at the end.

One of the bodies still hadn't been positively identified, but the others had been matched either to photographs of children reported missing, or to DNA samples provided by the parents. The collective loss of all those families sat cold in James's heart, like a hard and poisonous lump of blue-black lead.

He arranged for the parents of the children to be contacted in person by the officers who had worked on those missing person cases. He wasn't up for it himself; the whole thing with Lewis and Martin Johnson weighed heavily on his mind. Finally, he knocked on Innocent's door.

"Ma'am? A moment?"

"Certainly, Hathaway, what can I do for you? Sit down, it makes my neck ache to have to look up at you all the time."

He smiled at her rather ineffective effort to put him at ease and sat down. "Ma'am, I've learned some rather interesting information. DI Ward's guv, DCS Johnson, used to work here, a contemporary of Chief Inspector Morse. He knew Lewis then. To say they were not the best of friends would be a serious understatement."

"So, what are you saying, Hathaway? Johnson is behind this arrest? That he has some kind of . . . what? Evil plan? A wind-up? It seems incredibly unlikely that he would go to the effort of framing Lewis as a murderer after all these years." She all but rolled her eyes at James's unlikely proposition.

"I know that's not enough to say the investigation is a sham. But there's a _possibility_ the whole thing is a frame-up. If you could maybe sow that seed in DI Ward's brain, she could look into that, see if Johnson had a hand in collecting the evidence or anything?"

She looked exasperated. "I'll give her a call, Sergeant."


	14. Chapter 14

As tired as he was, Lewis lay on the slab in his cell the entire day, unable to sleep. His left eye was swollen shut, and his head throbbed there. The broken little finger on his left hand hurt more than he would have expected. His wrists were now bleeding where the cuffs rubbed him raw. He'd been worked over pretty well in the privacy of the interview room. This was something other than a police matter, of that he was now certain. Which made it worse. He didn't know what this was, exactly, or how it would end. He didn't think DI Ward knew the extent of what was going on, either. She mostly seemed like a decent cop.

The door to Lewis's cell banged open, jolting him out of his thoughts. A large man in uniform pulled him to his feet and shoved him out of the cell. He was walked through several corridors until, thoroughly disoriented, he ended up in what appeared to be an old holding cell that looked as if it had been unused for some time. Although he had lost track of time, the dark windows they passed as they walked told Lewis it was late. He ached all over. Johnson had hit him on the head and shoulders when he refused to "admit" to raping and killing Jenny Taylor. The big man had yanked the cassette out of the recorder and shoved it into Lewis's mouth, making him gag and chipping one of his teeth. The recorder had only been on while Johnson tried to get Lewis to confess; once the beating resumed, he had shut it off, Lewis had noticed. And he was there now, watching as Lewis was pushed into the cell.

"Welcome to your new home, Lewis." Johnson sneered. "Don't worry, you won't be alone in here. I've brought some company for you." He turned as two PCs brought another man in handcuffs to the cell.

"Things are getting a little crowded in the main custody cells," he explained. "So we have to use this old cell and we need to double up a little. I thought it best to put you two unrepentant killers together. Lewis, this is Johnny Kane, charged with three counts of murder. I've already explained to Mister Kane that his new cellmate is a policeman. He's looking forward to spending some time with you. If he can do me a favor or two, he might find himself facing a reduced charge." Johnson watched with a small smile as the PCs uncuffed Kane and pushed him into the cell. Lewis noticed both officers kept their faces completely blank, as if what was going on had nothing to do with them.

The cell door clanged shut, and Johnson turned to go. "I'll be back in a few hours, gentlemen." He smiled at Lewis, and walked away with the uniformed officers.

Kane looked Lewis over. He was taller than Lewis by a head, and broader, his hands scarred and his arms heavily tattooed.

"So, Cop." He curled his lip. "I hate cops. And you must be a very bad cop for them to keep your bracelets on." He flexed his arms, put his hands together, and cracked his knuckles. "This ought to be interesting."

* * *

Hathaway had stayed late at the office, not wanting to go home where he was afraid the ghosts of so many dead children would haunt his dreams. Innocent was working late, too, having left a message for Janis Ward to call and wanting to pass any information on to Hathaway as soon as Ward returned the call.

Not having much else to work on, Hathaway looked up Johnson's old employment record to see if there was any mention of his conflict with Morse. The file came up, and Hathaway clicked on the button to display Johnson's staff photo.

Innocent was just hanging up the phone from her conversation with DI Ward when Hathaway burst into her office without knocking. The expression on her face made him shut his mouth as fast as he had opened it. She was visibly shaken.

"Ma'am, what is it? Was that DI Ward?"

Her voice was tense and quiet. "They've moved him. Janis went to check on him and there was someone else in the cell. The custody sergeant told her they were short on cell space and Johnson had him moved and doubled him up with a man charged with murder. But the custody sergeant couldn't find a record of what cell they were in; the system still showed him in the old one and he couldn't say when it would be updated. He said Lewis looked as if he'd been in a fight, and he was still in handcuffs. Janis now thinks you're right, James. The way Johnson is handling this is all wrong. I told her to talk to their Commander. She needs someone above Johnson to believe this." Her worried expression tightened then. "Was there something you came to tell me?"

Hathaway took a deep breath. "Yeah, absolutely. I looked up Johnson's employment file here and when I saw his photo . . . Ma'am, he's Matthias Jackson. He's the one running this child porn operation."

She stared, mouth agape. "Oh, my God." Her eyes snapped into focus. "Come on. Let's get over to London, _now_. Get backup to come, too. I'll call Janis on the way." She grabbed her things and rushed from the office, Hathaway right behind.

The late hour meant traffic was fairly light, and the flashing blue light aided their progress. Innocent explained over the phone what they had learned, stressing the urgency of the situation. "_Find him, Janis. Get him out of there_." She rang off, shaking her head. "She'll meet us if she can; otherwise she said the desk sergeant will be expecting us." She inhaled deeply, and let it out in a rush. "I hope we're not too late."

* * *

Kane circled Lewis like he was prey. This hadn't been set up as a fair fight, and Lewis knew it would take everything he had to survive. Kane looked him up and down, smirking.

"You're not really a killer, are you, mate? But _I_ am. In fact, I know you didn't kill Jenny Taylor because I did it. I raped her, too. You were probably too much of a gentleman to show her your cock, weren't you? She was a right scrubber and she deserved it. Wanted it too, I'd say, given how she squealed when I stuck it in her."

Lewis's lack of response seemed to anger him. He kept circling, and Lewis kept moving with him, trying to keep his distance and waiting for his chance to make a move. But suddenly he bumped up against the wall to his left. He hadn't seen it there because of his swollen eye. Kane saw his hesitation and struck hard, ramming Lewis in the ribs. Lewis gasped as he felt the bones crack. Then Kane spun Lewis, and slammed his forehead into the wall in a shower of sparks. Lewis knew he had to do something soon or it would be over.

Kane spun him around again so Lewis was facing him. The big man took a wide stance for balance and leverage, raised his fist, and pinned Lewis to the wall with his other hand. Blood was running from the cut on Lewis's forehead, nearly blinding his one functional eye. Still, he could see well enough for his purposes. _Now_.

Lewis slammed his right foot upward, squarely connecting with Kane's genitals. Kane turned ashen grey and pitched forward. Barely able to see, Lewis brought his cuffed wrists down on the back of Kane's head, deliberately aiming to strike with the steel that bound him. There was another crack of bone and Kane collapsed on the floor.

Lewis staggered and sank down to his knees. Then the concrete floor tilted up to meet his head and everything went black.

* * *

Hathaway and Innocent dashed into the station where the desk sergeant pointed them in the direction of the custody suite. Janis Ward saw them approach and hurried to meet them halfway down the corridor.

"I can't find him, Jean. He's not in any of the regular cells."

Hathaway cut in. "_Regular_ cells? Do you have some that aren't 'regular'?"

"Well, there are a couple in the old wing but we don't use them any more. The plumbing doesn't work."

"Take us there _now_."

Innocent was caught off guard by Hathaway's taking command of the situation from the two more senior officers, but she said nothing. He was undisputedly a man on a mission.

Ward sprinted down a narrow hallway with the two Oxfordshire detectives and their backup PCs right behind her. Bursting through a doorway, she came to a sudden stop, her forward progress blocked by Johnson standing with his fists on his hips, feet planted firmly. He was angry.

"Far enough, Inspector. Just turn around and go back through that door. This doesn't concern you."

Hathaway, however, had not stopped sprinting. He slammed into Johnson, knocking him to the ground. He continued down the corridor and in short order reached the cells. He grabbed the door of one in which he could see two men on the floor, smears of blood on the floor and walls.

"Where's the key for this?" The fury in his shout was plain.

Ward snatched a ring of keys from Johnson's hand where he sprawled, the PCs holding him down.

"Inspector? Come back with that. _That's an order, Ward!_"

It was one she ignored. She thrust a key into the cell's lock and Hathaway pulled the door open. He rushed forward to Lewis while Ward ran to check Kane.

"Sir? Inspector Lewis?" He rolled the older man onto his back. Lewis's face was covered in blood. Hathaway pulled the little bottle of smelling salts out of his pocket and waved it under Lewis's nose.

Lewis flinched and tried to open his eyes. "Hathaway? Is that you? I can't see . . ."

"Yeah, it's me. The governor's here, too." James turned to shout over his shoulder. "Ambulance! Get an ambulance." Then he looked over at Ward. She was shaking her head.

"This one's gone."

Hathaway swallowed and refocused. He spoke quietly to Ward.

"Is there a key for these cuffs? I think it's time they came off."

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. She handed over a small key. Hathaway clicked the cuffs open and carefully removed them from Lewis's torn wrists. He pulled an evidence bag out of his pocket and bagged the cuffs. Ward was watching curiously.

"Part of our case against your guv. GBH at least. Maybe attempted murder." He turned back to Lewis.

"Sir? You still with us? The ambulance is on its way, okay? It's over now."

Lewis stirred. "James? Don't go."

"No, Sir. The Chief Super is taking care of arresting Johnson. Everything will be okay."

"I didn't do it, Hathaway. I didn't kill her. It was Kane." Lewis tried to sit up, visibly agitated. "Johnson locked him in with me. I think he meant for Kane to kill me." He canted over, and Hathaway just caught him before his head hit the concrete.

"Sir, it's alright, try to stay calm. You can tell me about it after you've had some rest, alright?"

"Me head's spinning, Hathaway. Stay here, promise? I don't trust these people." He kept his hands pinned together, as if they were still cuffed.

"I promise, Sir. I'll be right here."

And although Lewis soon slid back into unconsciousness, Hathaway didn't move until the emergency med techs insisted they needed the space to work.


	15. Chapter 15

The room swam into focus and Lewis realized he was in hospital. Monocular vision, must be something wrong with one eye. Oh, yes, Johnson had clocked him upside the head, making that eye useless from the swelling.

_Johnson_. Lewis had known as soon as the man entered the interview room that things were not as they should be. He had been Johnson's personal target as soon as their investigation promised to interfere with his prosperous side business.

It was some time before Lewis realized that part of his view included a certain tall, blonde sergeant.

"Hathaway? Am I awake now?"

"I think so, Sir. How many fingers?" He held up four.

For some reason, this had become a joke between them. "Three." Lewis cracked a small smile.

"Mmm, hmm. Near enough."

Lewis stopped smiling.

"Hathaway. What the hell." It was a question.

The sergeant inhaled deeply. "Johnson was the mastermind of the child porn operation. He's identified everyone else involved in an effort to get some leniency, and we're in the process of rounding them up, with help from the Met. He tried to blame them all, too. But it probably won't get him anywhere; it's clear he was the brains."

"So . . . did he kill Jenny just to stop us and our investigation?"

"Partly that, but partly she was figuring him out. They were, erm . . . in a relationship, I'm sorry, Sir. That was why she moved to London, to be closer to him. He was the one giving her those bruises. Because of that, Christie knew him, so it was easy for him to take her. Jenny had just worked that out and it didn't sit well with her, according to him."

"Go figure." Lewis considered things a moment. "But we've got him, right?"

Hathaway didn't answer right away.

"James, what is it? Don't tell me he got away."

"No, it's not that, Sir. He's . . . well, he might not be sane enough to stand trial. It looks as if he is suffering from some type of delusional disorder."

Lewis frowned at that news.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Hathaway opened it and peeked out. He turned back to Lewis and added brightly, "There's someone here to see you, Sir. I'll, erm . . . just go have a smoke."

As he slipped out, a dark-haired woman entered the room.

"Inspector Lewis."

"Inspector Ward." His gut clenched at first, but he tried to relax. "Please don't strike me again, I'm fairly helpless here. Though that didn't stop you last time." He added the last quietly.

"I'm afraid I owe you an apology."

She shut her eyes. "Johnson's orders: 'Hit him, Janis, hit him hard.' So I tried. It's not something I'm used to doing. And the look on your face. I knew we had the wrong man. Johnson acted as if he had some secret, dangerous knowledge about you and said that I should trust him. In fact, he was tampering with the evidence to make it point to you. There _was_ a bloodstained doormat; he talked the SOCOs officers into giving it to him directly, without logging it." She opened her eyes and looked at him. "He could be so . . . persuasive."

"Janis, it's alright. I've found meself persuaded by Johnson, too, once. Long time ago, though. I think that's when he decided I was his enemy." He smiled at her. "No hard feelings. You seem like a decent copper."

She smiled broadly. "You're too kind, Robbie." Then she frowned a little. "It is 'Robbie,' isn't it? Only, Johnson kept calling you 'Bob.'"

"Yeah, he always did, even when I told him I didn't like it."

She sat on the edge of his bed. He caught a whiff of . . . lilac? Honeysuckle? "I'm so sorry, Robbie. What happened these past few days . . . Makes me wish I was working for Oxfordshire instead of the Met. Can you forgive me?"

"For what, following orders?"

"For hitting you. I never should have done that, orders or no orders."

"Y'know, that's the first time I was ever struck by a woman. It really surprised me. You're a lot tougher than you look." Then he grinned. "I like a woman with spirit."

She couldn't help but grin back. "Now don't go telling me you liked it. I won't believe that. You seem so gentle."

She pulled his hand up, examining the splint on his finger and the abrasions on his wrists. Her hands were soft. He found himself perfectly willing to forgive her, whatever her sins.

"Kane didn't find us so gentle. What happened to him, anyway?"

She didn't answer at first. Finally, "He's dead, Robbie. You fractured his skull. He probably would have lived if he'd had immediate attention. But our medical examiner said he'd been lying there for several hours, and that's what did it. If Johnson hadn't left you two alone for so long . . ." She trailed off.

He grew thoughtful. "There were a lot of things that Johnson could have done differently. But then I wouldn't have met you."

She impulsively kissed his knuckles. "Maybe when you get out of here, you can tell me all about your past encounters with Martin Johnson?"

Before Lewis could answer, Hathaway returned to the room. He stopped short, glancing back and forth between them, getting the feeling he had interrupted something. Janis looked a bit embarrassed to be caught holding Lewis's hand, but Lewis was anything but embarrassed. "I'd be glad to. I'll give you a call, okay?"

She seemed very happy as she hopped off his bed and sped out the door, avoiding eye contact with James.

Hathaway turned to allow his gaze to follow her out. Then he looked at his boss, eyebrows cocked.

"You're not wasting any time, here, I see."

"Did you want something, Hathaway?"

"She's a friend of Innocent's, it might not be the best idea, Sir."

"_What_ might not be the best idea, Sergeant?"

Hathaway fought the urge to make some sort of snappy retort, something that would make Lewis squirm.

"Nothing specific in mind, Sir. I'm certain you're quite capable of exercising your own discretion." He flashed an overbroad smile.

"As are you, Sergeant. There's nothing you know that the Chief Super needs to know, understood?"

"Sir."

"Now make yourself useful and go find out how soon I can get out of here. I think I owe more than one person a pint or two, don't I?"

* * *

**And a virtual pint for the Birthday Girl, you know who you are! Enjoy!**


End file.
